


See Clearly Now

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Asexual Wanda maximoff, F/M, kinda Wanda/Pietro if you squint, pietro is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:04:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4342448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanda feels alone after Pietro dies, and is finally able to see her life clearly with a little help from the Vision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See Clearly Now

**Author's Note:**

> This was just sort of a writing excersise, unbeta'd, I don't own marvel, etc etc.

 Wanda wasn't broken. At least that's what she told herself during all the times in her life when she'd felt shattered into a million pieces, like pebbles on broken glass.

She was always Weird. Weird Wanda, the creepy and dubious night to her wonderful twin's charm, his daylight charisma. She missed him, but more than that. It wasn't just Pietro that had fallen into the arms of death that day his corpse hit the ground, ridden with billets. A piece of Wanda was gone.

Steve, the good team leader always, offers counselling. But how could she explain that she didn't feel? She felt through Pietro. He was her emotional unit. When he died, she couldn't cry. She hadn't shed a tear. It wasn't real. It should have been her. And yet, hadn't she always been this way?

Looking back, she had only ever loved Pietro. She loved him like she loved herself, like a mother loves their son, she loved him like a sister loves their brother and like a wife loves their husband and all the most pure forms of love. She likes her team, maybe even loves them. She just can never love them like Pietro.

She grows close with a particular teammate, the red faux-human and all-too-humane anti-Ultron, the Vision. She can't penetrate his mind like the others; for that she is grateful. He's like her- cold, distant, observing the interactions from within a bubble where all sounds and sights are blurred, muffled, amplified and crystalline simultaneously. He's the only one who understands the emptiness she seems to feel, eating at the remnants of her soul like a black hole devouring the sun. Pietro, the sun, dead..... Would that make Wanda the void, then?

The tabloids, of course, being the metaphorical bottom feeding fish in the murky sea of journalism, constantly manipulate photos of her and the team to sell a quick story, which has only added to her voluntary emotional self-alienation of late. Everyone loves a scandal; everyone likes to believe she's a witch in more than name.

They've accused her of dating everyone from Natasha to Steve to Clint, which was especially repulsive given his status to her as a fatherly figure. Just yesterday, she'd gone to a gas station, disguised in civilai clothes, purple sungalsses- god, sometimes she needed to venture into the world, if only to remind herself that it still turned- and glimpsed the national enquirer, complete with an "anonymous source" that claimed to have slept with her, that she was this and that and more, with all the alleged gritty details.

She bought the magazine- she never did, none of the avengers ever entertained such ludicrous plebeian speculations- but on an impulse, she couldn't resist. She thumbed through it quickly before tossing it into the trash on the sidewalk, where it floated down like an ink-soaked butterfly to join cigarette butts and crushed cola cans.

Out of all the rumors, this was the most ridiculous yet- apparently, she was a nymphomaniac who thought herself a vampire, and she'd slept with the anonymous source and drank their blood, or something. She hadn't taken the time to read the finer text; she didn't need to. She laughed like windchimes, drawing a few looks from passerby, and she wondered for the first time if it might be easier to just tell everyone she'd never felt much attraction towards anyone sexually anyway, the opposite of Pietro, who'd run around with anyone regardless of gender. The thought of him took the laughter off her breath, but for once didn't replace it with the choking presence of tears.

She'd learned there were all kinds of words for people's personal sexual preferences, but it didn't really matter to her. Startlingly, her lack of interest in what was rated as such a banal human instinct wasn't on the list of attributes that kept her awake at night, contemplating if she was broken.

That was another problem the Vision soothed her on- not that she'd ever told, and it didn't seem to come up, but it didn't matter.

His presence was a salve in itself. He wasn't above humans, but something different entirely, luckily free from the carnal pressures that she'd never understood anyways. She dropped her empty bottle in another bin as she made her way back towards the avengers tower, missing Pietro incredibly. But maybe, maybe a little less than yesterday. And maybe, maybe she could learn to lessen that still, and if not, to carry the burden of loss with the grace of an owl carrying a mouse corpse in the nighttime.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback always appreciated; let me know if I made a mistake. Feel free to come hang out with me on tumblr (my user is reading-and-raging), drop by my ask if you ever want me to write something for you! :-)


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